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"-L. 


THE  COLLEGE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 

AND  CLASSICAL  PHILOLOGY 

IN  THE  COLLEGE 


JOHN  HENRY  WRIGHT 


THE  COLLEGE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 

AND  CLASSICAL  PHILOLOGY 

IN  THE  COLLEGE 


An  Address  at  the  Opening  of  the  Eleventh  Academic  Year  of 
the  Johns  Hopkins  University,  October  7, 1886 


BY 


JOHN  HENRY  WRIGHT 

Professor  of  Classical  Philology  and  Dean  of  the  College  Board 
LATELY  Associate  Professor  of  Greek  in  Dartmouth  College 


BALTIMORE 
1886 


Issued  by  the  Publication  Agency 

OF  THE 

Johns  Hopkins  University. 

November,  188G. 


102  1 


ADDRESS. 


^  ly  E  stand  this  evening  at  the  opening  of  the  second  decennium 
\  1/  of  the  Johns  Hopkins  University.  The  retrospect  of  the 
first  ten  years  gives  cause  for  grateful  hope.  ,  Like  St. 
Paul  at  the  Three  Taverns,  we  thank  God  and  take  courage. 
We  are  thankful  anew  for  the  munificence  of  the  Founder,  for 
the  cautious  yet  far-reaching  wisdom  of  the  guardians  of  the 
foundation.  We  are  thankful  for  the  good  men  that  have  here 
wrought,  some  of  Avhom  are  now  no  longer  wuth  us.  And  of 
these  absent  ones,  we  recall  none  to-day  to  a  more  grateful 
remembrance  than  the  noble  scholar,  the  Christian  gentleman, 
Charles  D'Urban  INIorris,  who  brought  to  the  service  of  this 
university,  in  the  most  important  years  of  her  existence,  the 
best  and  manliest  culture  of  England,  a  pure  heart,  a  tender 
conscience,  and  an  unselfish  devotion  to  the  welfare  of  his  fel- 
low-men. We  are  thankful  that  the  high  ideal  here  set  at  the 
beginning  has  not  been  lowered,  and  that  the  country  and  the 
community  alike  recognize  the  unique  and  poAverful  position  of 
the  university  among  American  educational  institutions.  We 
take  great  courage,  for  the  future,  in  the  reflection  that  the  uni- 
versity has  attained  this  position,  by  coming  into  existence  not 
through  a  creative  fiat,  but  by  a  growth  secure  and  sound, 
though  swift  without  precedent. 

From  the  beginning  the  main  features  of  a  university  have  been 
clearly  in  the  minds  of  its  managers,  but  as  time  has  passed  on, 

3 


737^24 


4  The  College  in  the  University  and 

they  have  gained  greater  distinctness  and  definiteness.  It  has 
never  been  forgotten  here  that  the  function  of  the  university  is 
peculiar :  that  the  ideal  university  is  not  only  a  mighty  teacher, 
but  that  it  is  also  a  great  scientific  force;  that  the  university 
should  stand  in  the  very  vanguard  in  the  advancement  of  human 
kuo^vledge,  with  beacon  lights  that  illumine,  for  the  student,  the 
backward  tracts  of  past  achievement,  and,  for  the  investigator,  the 
illimitable  waste  of  darkness  without.  It  has  ever  been  here 
maintained  that  for  the  higher  activities  of  university  life  a  pre- 
liminary training  is  essential,  which  it  is  one  of  the  functions  of 
the  university  to  foster  and  to  perfect.  In  other  words,  the  indis- 
soluble connexion  between  college  and  university  has  always  been 
insisted  npon,  and  from  the  outset  provision  has  here  been  made 
for  collegiate  instruction,  under  university  management.  Time 
has  only  developed  and  defined  this  connexion.  The  recent 
establishment  of  the  office,  to  which  I  am  introduced,  that  of 
dean  of  the  college  board,  is  but  one  of  the  marks  and  tokens 
of  this  development,  and  alone  suggests  and  gives  significance 
to  the  theme  chosen  for  this  occasion.  The  union  of  this  office, 
in  the  present  instance,  with  a  professorship  of  classical  philology, 
suggests  an  amplification  of  the  theme.  Your  attention  is  accord- 
ingly invited  to  a  few  remarks  on  The  College  in  the  University 
and  Classical  Philology  in  the  College. 

In  the  United  States  there  are  at  j^resent  recognized  four  distinct 
stages  in  the  educational  system  :  that  of  primary  instruction  or 
of  the  common  schools,  where  children  are  furnished  mainly  with 
the  rudiments  of  practical  knowledge ;  that  of  secondary  educa- 
tion— the  high  schools,  academies,  and  the  like — an  advance  on 
the  preceding,  where  youth  are  trained  in  the  mere  rudiments  of 
liberal  or  of  technical  knowledge ;  tliat  of  collegiate  instruction, 
wliere  young  men  and  womcui  rec(^iv(!  a  discij)line  in  the  essentials 
of  liberal  education  which  shall  fit  tliem  for  inttslligent  activity  in 
the  world,  not  merely  of  action,  but  of  inlierited  thought;  and 
finally  that  of  university  instruction,  which  at  i)resent  has  a  two- 


Classical  Philology  in  the  College.  6 

fold  function,  viz:  the  professional,  wherein  men  are  fitted  for 
special  activities  in  the  several  distinctly  recognized  professions, 
and  the  liberal,  wherein  men  are  fitted  for  successful  and  skilled 
activity  in  advancing  learning  and  science.  We  are  not  concerned 
to  enquire  whetlier  this  established  four-fold  division  is  the  most 
advantageous ;  it  is  enough  to  say  that  it  exists,  and  that  it  is 
likely  to  exist.  And  it  is  the  duty  of  the  majority  of  us,  leaving 
aside  all  theoretical  questions,  to  make  education,  in  this  four-fold 
sequence,  as  efficient  as  possible. 

Now  each  of  these  stages  in  our  national  educational  system 
must  be  viewed  in  two  aspects, — either,  for  many  students,  as  a 
step  in  a  gradually  ascending  scale,  or,  for  many  more  students, 
as  the  conclusion  of  their  scholastic  education.  We  cannot,  how- 
ever, pause  to  remark  upon  the  influence  which  this  two-fold 
aspect  of  the  matter  should  exert  upon  the  organization  of 
education  in  the  earlier  stages,  but  in  its  bearing  on  collegiate 
education  it  becomes  highly  important.  The  wise  counsellor,  who 
would  plan  for  the  usefulness  of  the  college,  must  bear  in  mind 
that  he  has  a  double  problem  to  solve :  he  must  make  the  college 
a  beneficent  power  in  the  influence  it  shall  exert  upon  the  great 
company  of  youth  who  from  its  gates  pass  out  into  active  life ;  he 
must  also,  however,  so  adjust  and  adapt  its  various  educational 
forces  that  they  may  tell  effectively  in  the  training  of  those  who 
are  to  advance  from  it  into  the  higher  activity  of  university  instruc- 
tion. The  college  should  then  be  made  as  complete  in  itself  and 
as  comprehensive  as  if  it  alone  existed.  From  this  point  of  view 
we  may  regard  the  college  as  an  institution,  in  which  young  men 
are  to  be  brought,  by  many  methods,  into  intelligent  relations  to 
their  environment.  The  environment,  in  which  we  are  placed,  is 
at  once  material  and  spiritual ;  we  live  in  the  midst  of  a  world  of 
thought  embodied  in  institutions,  in  religions,  in  literatures ;  a 
world  of  thought  which  tlirough  countless  generations  of  men  has 
slowly  been  developed  from  ancient  germs.  It  is  the  mark  of  the 
liberal  education  that  it  ('iia):)les  a  man,  in  sonic  measun",  to  dis- 


6  The  College  in  the  University  and 

cern  and  to  behold  in  jiroper  perspective,  the  lineaments  and  out- 
lines of  this  mighty  world  ;  that  it  widens  his  horizons,  by  leading 
him  up  to  the  heights  of  observation  where — in  the  thought  of 
Goethe — there  is  repose ;  that  it  enables  him  to  discover  his  own 
place  and  the  place  of  his  fellow-men  in  this  Avorld,  that  it  makes 
him  at  home  in  it,  a  free  and  sovereign  citizen  of  this  spiritual 
commonwealth,  which  is  bounded  neither  by  time  nor  by  space ; 
that  it  teaches  him  the  common  speech  of  humanity  ;  that  it  thus 
frees  him  from  the  fetters  of  narrow  convention  in  opinion  ;  that 
it  purges  his  eyes  from  the  vapours  of  superstition  ;  that  by  it,  in 
Milton's  noble  phrase,  he  is  "  fraught  with  an  universal  insight 
into  things  ; "  that  it  enables  him,  by  a  rigorous  and  exact  study 
of  all  that  is  human,  to  understand  himself  better,  not  only  as  an 
individual  entity,  but  also  as  the  member  of  a  great  society,  and 
that  it  thus  fits  him  for  a  manly  and  intelligent  activity  in  the 
larger  world  of  intellectual  life,  as  well  as  in  that  of  practical 
business  affairs.  We  may  thus  say  of  a  liberal  education  that  it 
at  least  enables  a  man  at  first  hand  to  get  his  bearings,  to  "orient" 
himself  in  his  complex  and  intricate  environment ;  that  it  affects 
this  only  by  training  him,  in  various  ways,  to  accuracy,  thorough- 
ness, caution,  modesty,  intellectual  courage  and  independence.  It 
develops  and  disciplines  powers  and  faculties  that  otherwise  would 
remain  dormant.  It  trains  to  self-knowledge  and  to  self-mastery. 
It  also  imparts  information,  but  does  this  in  such  a  way  that  infor- 
mation becomes  knowledge  and  knowledge  wisdom. 

No  lower  aim  should  lead  those  into  whose  hands  the  custody 
and  administration  of  a  college  have  fallen,  and  at  no  time 
shoidd  this  high  aim  become  obscured  either  for  the  teacher  or  for 
the  scholar.  The  college,  which  is  in  the  United  States  for  the 
majority  of  students  the  principal  seat  of  liberal  education,  should 
ever  remember  that  its  object  is,  in  the  memorable  words  of 
Comenius,  "  to  train  generally  those  that  are  born  men  to  that 
Avhich  is  human."  It  thus  would  magnify  in  education  those 
great  concerns  that  men — and  especially  educated  men — have  in 


Classical  Philology  in.  the  College.  7 

common,  and  would  place  in  due  subordination  such  as  touch  only 
the  few.  To  restrict  the  influences  of  a  training  that  aims  to  be 
liberal  within  narrow  lines,  to  concentrate  attention  chiefly  on 
limited  and  partial  aspects  of  the  question,  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
wider  view,  is  to  defeat  the  ends  of  liberal  training.  Where 
specialization  so  consumes  time  and  energy  as  to  render  general 
study  futile,  it  is  out  of  place  in  a  college.  But  it  must  not  be 
overlooked  that  there  are  apparent  cases  of  specialization  that  are 
in  fact  instances  of  most  liberalizing  study.  The  close  fixing 
of  attention,  for  a  time,  upon  one  branch  of  science,  or  upon  one 
department  of  literature,  or  upon  one  epoch  of  history,  Avill  often 
yield  results  of  more  permanent  value,  in  a  wider  knowledge  of 
scientific  methods  and  of  literary  phenomena,  and  in  the  difficult 
acquisition  of  the  historic  sense,  than  could  ever  be  gained  from 
diffusion  over  a  more  miscellaneous  field.  Aiwl  again  we  must 
remember  that  it  is  usually  the  method  and  spirit  with  which 
studies  are  pursued  that  make  them  liberal  in  the  truest  sense. 
As  civilization  progresses,  and  as  the  thoughts  of  men  widen, 
the  environment,  in  some  of  its  features,  will  suffer  a  slow  change. 
Education  will  vary  with  these  varying  conditions,  and  the  educa- 
tion of  one  generation  cannot,  in  all  respects,  remain  the  education 
for  another.  Man,  in  his  essential  humanity,  however,  remains 
the  same,  and  all  his  inherited  past,  which  mostly  makes  up  his 
present,  still  remains.  Thus  the  element  of  change  must  be  slight 
and  very  gradual  in  its  operation.  There  are  no  cataclysms  in  the 
spiritual  life  of  the  world,  and  there  should  be  no  revolutions  in 
education.  The  aims  of  liberal  education,  its  main  features  and 
elements,  its  spirit  and  its  method,  will  remain  substantially  the 
same  from  age  to  age.  The  knowledge  of  the  achievements  of  the 
race — in  literature,  science  and  art  in  their  widest  meaning — must 
be  gathered  anew  by  each  individual  student,  and  it  will  ever 
remain  the  business  of  institutions  to  transmit,  for  the  good  of 
posterity,  all  acquired  treasures  of  wisdom  and  experience,  aug- 
mented and  unimpaired. 


8  The  College  in  the  University  and 

Though  the  change  from  one  age  to  the  next  is  slight,  the 
progress  of  the  human  race,  as  measured  by  its  earlier  conditions, 
has  been  enormous.  This  progress  of  the  race  we  may  perhaps 
regard  as  epitomized  in  the  life  of  the  individual.  There  is  there- 
fore a  great  difference  between  the  education  fit  for  the  boy  and 
that  fit  for  the  man.  As  a  rule  students  enter  colleges  as  boys, 
and  emerge  from  them  as  men.  This  gradual  change  in  their 
relation  to  themselves  and  to  the  world  should  be  matched  by  a 
similar  progression  in  the  principles  and  methods  of  their  collegi- 
ate training.  The  preeminently  disciplinary  and  passive  stage  of 
the  beginning  of  student  life,  characterized  by  deference  to 
authority,  should  be  followed  by  one  in  Avhich  intellectual  growth 
is  stimulated  by  freedom  and  independence  in  mental  activity. 
This  gradation  should  be  so  adjusted,  that  when  a  young  man 
enters  into  active  life  from  the  college,  he  shall  be  competent  to 
think  and  to  act  alone,  with  no  feeling  of  dependence  on  masters 
and  governors.  It  becomes  thus  one  of  the  most  important, 
though  most  difficult  problems  of  the  college  officer  wisely  to  com- 
bine the  principles  of  constraint  and  of  freedom  in  the  organiza- 
tion and  administration  of  a  system  of  collegiate  instruction. 

The  college  is,  however,  a  training  school  not  only  for  active 
life,  but  for  a  more  advanced  stage  in  education,  for  the  univer- 
sity. In  the  latter  relation  it  has  a  work  to  perform  not  second  to 
that  in  the  former  relation.  The  university  has  so  often  been 
defined  in  words,  and  here  has  in  many  respects  so  well  realized 
itself  in  a  concrete  instance,  that  it  is  altogether  unnecessary  for 
me  to  attempt  to  describe  it.  We  need  now  only  bear  in  mind 
tliat  it  is  the  essence  of  the  ideal  university  to  advance  knowledge, 
to  educate  by  increasing  the  sum  of  learning  and  science,  as  well 
as  by  transmitting  an  inheritance,  to  equip  for  the  highest  order 
of  activity  in  the  professions.  Men,  then,  who  are  to  labour  suc- 
cessfully here,  in  the  university,  must  have  received  that  prelimi- 
nary training  which  w'ill  enable  them  to  work  with  least  waste  of 
energy  and  eiFort.     The  domain  of  human  knowledge,  the  borders 


Oasfticnl  Philohr/ij  in  the  College.  9 

of  which  we  would  extend,  is  now  so  broad  tliat  he  who  would 
actually  advance  science  and  fitly  serve  his  race,  must  concentrate 
his  labours  upon  some  paiticuilar  subject.  But  the  results  of 
special  work  are  meagre  and  valueless,  unless  they  are  coordinated 
with  the  general  results  previously  obtained,  and  this  coordination 
is  alone  possible  for  him  that  has  general  knowledge  and  iskill. 
The  foundation  must  be  broad  and  solid,  or  the  superstructure 
will  totter  and  fall.  A  panoramic  view^  of  the  whole  field,  not 
only  of  liberal  culture  but  also  of  that  department  of  study  or  of 
professional  activity,  in  which  he  proposes  to  do  special  work, 
must  be  clearly  in  the  student's  vision  before  he  can  expect,  with 
profit,  to  enter  upon  the  land  and  possess  even  a  small  tract  of  it. 
General  studies,  pursued  systematically  in  a  college  course,  give 
this  panoramic  view,  while  special  studies  bring  one  face  to  face, 
hand  in  hand,  with  knowledge.  The  college,  then,  nmst  not 
merely  have  developed  in  the  student  the  power  of  independent 
activity,  but  must  also  have  given  him  his  bearings  in  the  great 
domain  of  human  knowledge,  practical  acquaintance  with  certain 
features  of  a  chosen  field,  and  familiarity  with  the  aims  and 
methods  of  scientific  inquiry.  Otherwise  the  college  graduate 
will  be  thrown  helpless  and  ignorant  into  the  busy  world  of 
university  life. 

The  colleges  of  our  country  more  or  less  adequately  recognize 
their  essential  functions,  in  the  two-fold  relation  already  described, 
and  undertake  to  discharge  them  in  different  ways,  in  which  the 
influence  of  mere  tradition,  and  of  certain  external  limitations, 
are  frequently  distinctly  to  be  observed.  There  are  four  distinct 
types  of  the  American  college,  each  of  which  has  its  peculiar 
merits  and  its  peculiar  defects. 

1.  The  first  type  is  that  where  the  whole  course  of  study  and 
discipline  is  distinctly  prescribed  in  all  details,  the  same  for  each 
and  every  student ;  where  the  principle  of  freedom  of  choice  is 
not  recognized.  Here  not  only  are  all  students  growing  into 
manhood  treated  Jis  boys,  but  there  is  a  total  disregard  of  that 
•) 


10  The  College  in  the  University  and 

infinite   variety   in   tastes   and   aptitudes   which    commandingly 
asserts  itself  long  before  the  student  leaves  college. 

2.  The  second  type  is  that  of  the  college  where  practically  no 
studies  are  prescribed,  but  entire  freedom  of  choice  from  a  large 
number  of  diverse  subjects,  called  "  electives,"  is  granted.  Colleges 
of  this  type  are  at  the  opposite  pole  to  the  colleges  of  the  fixed 
curriculum.  In  the  gratification  of  special  tastes,  in  the  limited 
and  premature  development  of  peculiar  faculties  and  aptitudes, 
there  is  danger  that  the  individual  may  isolate  himself  from  com- 
mon interests  and  sympathies,  and  may  lose  the  openness  of  mind 
that  marks  the  truly  educated  man. 

3.  In  colleges  of  the  third  type  there  is  a  compromise  between 
a  fixed  curriculum  and  a  system  of  electives.  In  the  earlier 
years  of  the  student's  connexion  with  the  college,  all  his  studies 
are  prescribed,  while  toward  the  close  of  his  course  a  certain 
liberty  of  choice  among  special  studies  is  granted.  The  dan- 
ger in  this  mixed-elective  t^^pe  of  college — the  prevalent  type 
in  the  Eastern  States  at  present — is  that  there  is  often  an  im- 
proper adjustment  of  the  prescribed  and  elective  studies  with 
reference  to  each  other,  and  that  the  limited  amount  of  time 
given  to  special  studies  is  usually  inadequate  for  their  satisfac- 
tory development. 

4.  The  fourth  type  of  the  American  college  is  the  one  in  which 
certain  related  subjects  of  study  are  thrown  into  groups  one  of 
which  the  student  is  to  select  and  adhere  to.  Several  fundamental 
and  general  studies  are  usually  prescribed  in  addition  to  the  special 
subjects  of  each  group.  The  objection  to  the  group  system  of 
collegiate  studies,  at  least  in  its  most  rigid  form,  is  that  while 
it  secures  certain  solid  attainments,  it  does  this  at  a  cost  of  pre- 
mature specialization  except  where  a  pronounced  tendency  has 
early  shown  itself;  that  it  may  force  an  unripe  decision  as  to 
choice  of  profession ;  that  it  renders  impracticable,  for  the  same 
person,  great  proficiency  in  different  subjects  of  study,  such  as 
may  be  exhibited  in  the  famous  "  Double  First "  of  the  English 


Classical  Philology  in  the  College.  11 

universities,  an  lionour  awarded  for  distinction  in  classics  and 
mathematics. 

It  is  at  once  seen  that  in  all  these  four  types,  except  the  first, 
the  distinction  in  the  tastes  and  preferences  of  students  is  admitted 
and  amply  provided  for.  But  another  equally  fundamental 
distinction  is  only  imperfectly  recognized,  at  least  in  America: 
the  great  difference  in  general  capacity  for  work,  which  is  con- 
spicuous in  life  and  which  there  brings  its  own  rewards.  In  our 
colleges  everything  is  planned  for  the  average  man.  We  make 
only  inadequate  provision  for  men  capable  of  doing  an  unusual 
quantity  of  work.  Our  prizes  and  other  distinctions  are  usually 
granted  for  superior  quality  only,  and  are  commonly  so  meagre 
as  to  attract  but  few  competitors.  In  England  the  case  is  different ; 
there,  for  men  of  more  than  average  capacity  for  work,  a  larger 
amount  of  reading  and  research  is  provided  leading  to  the  bachelor's 
degree  with  Honours  ;  of  the  men  of  average  or  less  than  average 
capacity,  less  work  is  exacted,  leading  to  the  so-called  "  Pass  " 
degree.  And  it  is  to  the  credit  of  our  English  brethren  that 
nearly  one-half  of  the  graduates  in  arts  take  the  Honours  course, 
and  not  a  beggarly  five  per  cent,  as  in  the  United  States.  It  is 
possible  that  some  of  the  defects  in  our  collegiate  systems  of  study 
may  be  remedied  by  a  recognition  of  this  difference,  the  difference 
in  power  to  work,  along  with  our  ample  recognition  of  differences 
in  tastes. 

It  is  the  happy  privilege  of  a  new  institution,  biased  and  bur- 
dened by  no  traditions 

— "  No  hungry  generations  tread  thee  down  " — 
that  it  can  approach  the  problems  of  education  with  a  clear  and 
open  mind,  can  make  an  independent  and  original  attempt  at 
solution,  and  may  even,  always  with  a  view  to  the  common  good, 
guardedly  venture  to  undertake  experiments. 

The  college  that  faithfully  does  its  duty  to  the  young  persons 
committed  to  its  charge,  of  whatever  name  or  type  it  may  be,  will 
be  a  source  of  great  strength  to  a  university.     The  men  whom  it 


12  The  College  in  the  Univemitij  and 

sends  up  to  the  higher  institution  Avill  huve  been  well  equipped 
and  prepared  for  their  neAV  lield  of  labour,  and  for  i?uch  men  the 
university  will  not  need  to  do  over  again,  as  are  many  universities 
now  obliged,  the  work  that  belongs  to  the  college  to  do.  The 
university,  which  in  its  single-eyed  hunt  for  new  knowledge  may, 
at  times,  be  in  danger  of  losing  the  broader  truth,  will  be  recalled 
to  a  more  wholesome  activity  by  the  influence  of  an  institution 
W'here  the  wholeness  of  life  and  knowledge  is  kept  constantly  in 
view.  On  the  other  hand,  the  great  advantage  of  this  relation  to 
the  college  is  especially  apparent,  where  the  university  teachers 
are  also  college  officers,  where  university  students  are  constantly 
thrown  with  members  of  the  college.  The  zealous  undergraduate, 
looking  forward  to  university  life,  finds  in  the  spirit  and  aims  of 
his  teachers  and  associates  a  constant  inspiration  and  incentive  to 
a  higher  order  of  work.  There  is  no  sharp  line  clearly  dividing 
the  college  from  the  university,  though  the  essential  differences 
of  the  two  institutions  are  clear  enough.  In  the  final  years 
of  a  college  course,  as  Ave  have  seen,  the  methods  and  subject 
matter  of  education  should  become  more  and  more  such  as  are 
appropriate  for  men  instead  of  boys,  such  as  will  fit  students  for 
indejjendent  activity  in  thought  and  conduct  in  life,  as  men.  As 
a  discipline  for  this  independent  activity,  what  we  may  call  origi- 
nal research  will  be  provided  for  in  the  college,  to  a  certain 
extent.  The  methods  and  the  training  here  Avill  differ  in  no 
essential  respect  from  those  of  the  university.  The  organization 
and  adjustment  of  subjects  and  methods  in  such  way  that  the 
closing  year  of  the  college  may  easily  and  naturally  blend  with 
the  opening  year  of  the  university,  will  be  found  most  advantage- 
ous not  only  to  the  student,  but  also  to  both  institutions.  The 
forced  and  sudden  transition  which  is  often  observed — as  from  the 
gymnasium  to  the  German  university,  or  from  some  of  our 
American  colleges  to  our  ])rofessional  schools — is  frequently  most 
injurious  ;  it  not  seldom  wrecks  character,  and  it  nearly  always 
occasions  a  most  disastrous  waste  of  time  and  enei'gy.     When, 


Classical  Philology  in  Ihe  Coller/e.  13 

however,  the  articuhition  between  college  and  university  is  fitly- 
made,  when  the  eircninstances  of  locality  bring  their  members  into 
close  personal  relations,  when  both  institutions  are  under  the 
guiding  influence  of  the  same  high  motives,  they  will  constitute 
an  educational  force  the  beneficent  influence  of  which  upon  the 
individual,  upon  the  conununity,  and  upon  the  country  is  beyond 
human  calculation. 

I  cannot  but  believe  that  we  have  such  a  combination  in  the 
graduate  and  undergraduate  departments  of  this  institution,  in 
the  Johns  Hopkins  University,  and  in  what  may  be  called  the 
University  College. 

In  accordance  with  the  terms  of  the  gifts  of  the  Founder,  the 
institution  here  established  started  with  the  idea  of  the  university, 
which,  while  including  and  fostering  the  college,  should  be  some- 
thing distinct  from  it  and  much  above  it.  As  we  have  already 
remarked,  the  importance  of  the  college,  not  only  to  the  commu- 
nity— many  more  of  whose  members  could  share  its  advantages 
than  could  resort  to  the  higher  institution — but  also  to  the  vigor- 
ous life  of  the  university,  has  always  been  felt,  and  the  benefits  of 
the  close  affiliation  of  college  and  university  have  been  more  and 
more  perceived.  Elsewhere  in  the  United  States,  the  start  has 
usually  been  made  from  the  college,  and  most  of  our  genuine 
American  universities,  in  what  makes  them  universities,  have 
grown  out  of  and  upon  a  college.  But  this  growth — the  evolu- 
tion of  the  university  out  of  the  college,  and  its  establishment  as 
the  supplement  of  collegiate  training — has  usually  been  very 
gradual  and  very  slow\  Harvard  and  Yale  have  only  recently 
become  universities  in  flict  as  well  as  in  name.  It  is  fortunate 
that  here  in  Baltimore  the  beginning  was  made  Avith  the  univer- 
sity, in  a  high  conception  of  that  much  misused  word :  otherwise 
it  is  conceivable  that  a  true  university  might  never  have  existed 
here,  on  this  foundation. 

The  importance  of  this  University  College  among  the  organized 
educational  forces  of  the  connnonwealth  and  of  the  city  is  at  once 


14  The  College  in  the  University  and 

apparent.  It  completes  the  chain  of  institutions,  and  renders  it 
easy  for  the  studious  youth  of  Baltimore  and  Maryland  to  pass 
gradually  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  form  of  opportunity  and 
discipline.  By  holding  to  a  high  standard  of  admission,  by  living 
in  friendly  and  cooperative  relations  to  the  schools  and  colleges  of 
the  city  and  state,  it  insensibly  affects  the  quality  of  secondary 
and  of  collegiate  instruction.  It  will  not  supersede  other  institu- 
tions, but  by  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  its  location  and 
resources  it  ought  to  do  a  work  equal  to  that  of  any  college  in  the 
country. 

In  a  city  which  already  possesses  so  many  sources  of  elevating 
and  beneficent  influence,  in  the  numerous  noble  institutions  here 
established,  and  above  all  in  the  temper  and  spirit  of  society,  it 
may  be  venturesome  for  me  to  express  the  hope  that  the  college 
may  show  itself  a  distinct  addition  to  these  forces.  And  yet  his- 
tory constantly  teaches  us  that  there  are  many  communities  in 
this  and  in  other  countries,  in  which  much  that  is  most  enduring 
and  ennobling  in  their  culture  may  be  distinctly  traced  to  the 
educational  institutions  placed  in  their  midst.  Who  would  under- 
take to  measure  the  influence,  upon  the  intellectual  life  of  the 
Southern  States,  of  the  famous  university  founded  only  sixty  years 
ago  by  Thomas  Jefferson,  or  upon  the  culture  of  New  England,  of 
the  college  founded  by  John  Harvard,  our  own  sponsor,*  whose 
two  hundred  and  fiftieth  birthday,  a  few  weeks  hence,  we,  with 
all  other  institutions,  hail  with  gratitude  and  admiration  ? 

The  success,  growth,  and  influence  of  these  and  of  many  other 
equally  meritorious  but  less  noted  institutions  have  been  due  to 
the  secure  position  they  have  ever  held  in  the  hearts  of  the  people 
in  whose  midst  they  have  existed.  The  institution  here  founded 
by  Johns  Hopkins  can  be  successful  and  influential  to  the  fullest 


*  At  the  inauguration  of  President,  (lilman,  and  at  the  close  of  President 
Eliot's  congratulatory  address,  "  Mr.  Reverdy  Johnson,  Jr.,  introduced 
President  Oilman,  remarking  as  he  did  so,  that  the  university  now  stands 
forth  baptized  with  ancient  Harvard  as  its  sponsor." 


Classical  Philology  in  the  College.  15 

extent,  only  as  it  continues  to  receive,  as  it  already  has  richly 
received,  the  confidence  of  this  community,  of  this  city.      Tlie 
spirit  of  confidence  will  reveal  itself  not  only  in  the  use  made  by 
the  young  men  of  Baltimore  of  the  opportunities  for  education 
here   aflforded,   but    also   in   the    encouragement   by   sympathy, 
friendly  criticism,  and  suggestion,  of  all  the  eflTorts  here  put  forth 
to  make  these  opportunities  as  ample  and  as  adequate  as  the  age 
demands.     Material  aid  Mill  also  be  forthcoming,  whenever  the 
need  of  it  is  clear.      The  gift  of  the  founder  has  been  largely 
expended  in  securing  the  intellectual  foundation  of  the  university 
and  its  college,  in  procuring  good  teachers,  and  in  providing  the 
best  appliances  for  instruction.     Little,  comparatively,  has  been 
left  for  buildings,  which  though  not  as  important  as  brains,  are 
still  necessary  for  the  highest  success  of  the  institution.    We  have 
three  noble  laboratories ;  leaving  them  out  of  view,  it  needs  but 
little  observation  to  impress  upon  one  the  fact  that  there  are  many 
colleges  and  universities  of  less  name  and  influence  that  are  much 
better  housed.      Is  the  day  far  distant  when,  as  our  institution 
grows  in  members  and  usefulness,  and  the  present  quarters  become 
more  contracted — and  they  are  contracted  enough  now — a  new 
home  may  be  raised  up  for  it  by  the  timely  gifts  of  citizens  of  Bal- 
timore, in  attractive  college  halls,  perhaps  a  more  fit  place  for 
daily  religious  worship  in  a  beautiful  chapel, — all  of  which,  like 
many  college  buildings  elsewhere,  will  serve  also  as  enduring  and 
inspiring  memorials  of  public  spirit,  and  far-sighted  generosity  ? 
There  are  especial  reasons  why  by  you,  citizens  of  Baltimore, 
the  college  in  our  university  should  be  w'armly  cherished.     More 
and  more  are  your  sons  coming  up  to  receive  here  their  academic 
training,  young  gentlemen  who  are  to  form  a  large  proportion  of 
your  professional  men,  your  lawyers,  your  physicians,  your  clergy- 
men, your  journalists,  your  merchants,  and  by  reason  of  their 
social  aflSliations  are  destined  to  be  men  of  unusual  influence  in 
this  community.     George  Peabody's  famous  saying — "  Educaticm, 
a   debt   due  from   the   present   to  future   generations"  —  has  a 


16  The  College  in  the  University  and 

peculiar  and  profound  meaning  when  uttered  in  the  hearing 
of  Baltimoreans  on  behalf  of  the  college  of  Johns  Hopkins 
University. 

In  passing  to  the  second  part  of  my  theme,  I  shall  by  no  means 
enter  into  any  detailed  discussion  of  the  inner  working  of  a  college, 
placed  as  is  ours,  or  of  the  great  variety  of  subjects  of  study  that 
should  receive  impartial  recognition  in  collegiate  courses. 

There  is,  however,  one  great  department  of  college  instruction — 
that  connected  with  the  professorship  recently  assumed  by  me — 
which  demands  a  few  words  on  this  occasion.  And  yet  here  little 
that  is  new  can  be  said,  and  nothing  better  than  what  has  already 
often  been  said  and  illustrated  by  the  distinguished  leader  of 
these  studies  in  this  university,  its  fii'st  professor  in  more  senses 
than  one.* 

The  "  Classics"  have  long  held  a  prominent  position  in  the  list 
of  studies  that  make  up  the  college  curriculum.  By  this  w'ord 
have  been  usually  understood  the  languages  and  literatures  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  with  only  scant  reference  to  the  institutions, 
history,  art,  and  other  moral  and  intellectual  products  of  ancient 
civilization,  summed  up  in  the  expression  ancient  culture.  The 
prominent  place  in  education  early  assumed  by  these  studies  and 
since  maintained  is  easily  explained.  They  began  to  be  cultivated 
at  a  time  when  the  Greek  and  afterward  the  Latin  languages  were 
the  native  speech  of  the  student ;  they  were  then  cultivated  in  the 
service  of  the  state,  and  afterward  in  the  service  of  the  church. 
When  the  great  awakening  of  the  Renaissance  came,  with  its 
return  to  nature  in  the  primal  elements  of  humanity,  the  litera- 
ture of  Greece  and  Rome  were  resorted  to  as  the  source  of  life  and 
health.  The  church  in  its  constant  reference  to  the  written  word 
set  an  example :  it  was  in  i)erfect  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  the 


*  Professor  B.  L.  Gildersleeve,  Classics  and  Colleges,  in  the  Prhiceton 
Review,  1878;  On  the  Present  Aspect  of  Classical  Study,  in  the  University 
(•ircuhir,  .Tune,  1880. 


Classical  Philology  in  the  College.  17 

age  that  tlic  liuiguuges  and  literatures  of  the  ancients  should  have 
engrossed  the  attention  of  scholars.  What  this  renewed  contact 
with  antiquity,  even  in  this  restricted  sense,  did  for  the  intellectual 
life  of  Europe  is  comparable  only  to  the  tremendous  effect  pro- 
duced in  modern  life  and  thought  by  the  i-eturn  to  nature  in 
the  physical  world  made  by  the  modern  man  of  science.  These 
early  students  of  the  classics  found  them  of  such  especial  value  in 
widening  and  developing  the  human  faculties  that  they  loved  to 
name  them — after  the  example  of  the  Romans — the  humanizing 
studies,  and  gave  them  in  the  reformed  educational  systems  of 
Europe  a  supreme  position.  And  by  this  word — Humanities — 
their  advocates  have  ever  loved  to  style  them. 

As  time  has  passed  on,  the  range  of  knowledge  has  widened, 
new  worlds  have  been  discovered,  new  horizons  hitherto  unsus- 
pected have  opened  themselves,  and  new  and  powerful  instruments 
for  research  have  been  invented.  Under  the  microscope  of  lin- 
guistic investigation,  under  the  searching  telescope  of  historical 
observation,  even  the  old  and  familiar  domains  of  knowledge  have 
assumed  a  new  aspect,  and  have  revealed  a  wealth  of  wisdom 
not  dreamed  of  before.  This  widening  of  the  scope  in  classical 
study  renders  the  old  terminology  inadequate,  and  to  compass  the 
new  field — the  old  discovered  anew — the  expression  Classical 
Philology  is  used,  borrowed  like  "  Humanities"  from  the  usage  of 
scholars  of  antiquity,  but  deepened  and  enriched  in  meaning  with 
the  progress  of  knowledge.*  Classical  philology  covers  all  that  is 
included  in  the  study  of  the  life  and  thought  of  the  Greeks  and 
Komans,  as  regards  the  man,  society,  politics,  religion,  art:  it 
is  the  science  of  classical  antiquity ;  it  includes  above  all  the 
languages  and  literatures  of  the  ancients,  since  it  is  in  these  that 
the  mind  and  soul  of  autiijuity  have  most  perfectly  recorded 


*The  limitation  of  tlie expression  "classical  philology"  to  the  linfinistic, 
or  to  the  merely  literary,  study  of  Greei<  and  Latin  is  witliout  siifiicicnt 
warrant:  it  may  be  paralleled  by  the  narrow  application  of  the  word  jjIu- 
losophy  in  the  expression  "natural  philosof)hy." 


18  The  College  in  the  University  and 

themselves,  and  it  is  these  that  have  wrought  themselves  most 
potently  into  the  leaven  of  modern  thought ;  it  includes  also  insti- 
tutions, without  some  clear  insight  into  which  it  is  impossible  to 
appreciate  the  ancient  world,  or  even  the  modern  world  which  has 
arisen  upon  the  ancient,  differing  thus  from  history  only  in  its 
point  of  view  and  in  its  method,  and  not  at  all  in  its  subject- 
matter  ;  it  includes  equally  the  material  products  of  ancient  art 
upon  which,  even  in  their  fragmentary  condition,  the  skilled 
imagination  may  charm  back  into  ideal  existence  wonderful 
visions  of  external  loveliness.  And — in  the  light  of  the  compara- 
tive and  historical  sciences — it  pursues  all  these  matters  not  as 
dissociated  and  unconnected  objects  of  inquiry,  but  as  closely 
related  and  coordinate  disciplines,  each  of  which  aids  and  ampli- 
fies the  others,  all  of  which  are  essential  to  a  rounded  and  correct 
conception.  But  partly  through  the  traditional  influence  of  the 
earlier  limited  view  of  the  subject,  and  partly  through  the  minute 
subdivision  of  labor  demanded  by  modern  life,  there  is  danger 
that  the  classical  philologist,  interested  in  a  fixvorite  line,  may 
become  practically  ignorant  of  the  true  solidarity  of  classical 
studies,  may  disregard  a  just  proportion  in  his  work,  may  become 
a  teacher  or  a  student  only  of  grammar,  of  classical  history  or  of 
classical  archaeology,  or — even  worse — may  restrict  his  attention 
exclusively  either  to  Greek  or  to  Latin.  He  should  be  proficient 
in  each  of  tliese,  but  he  should  be  something  more ;  these  are 
but  parts  of  a  great  whole.  The  surviving  fragments  of  ancient 
literature,  and  the  material  n^juains  of  ancient  art  are  but  the 
rescued  wrecks  of  a  wonderful  civilization.  It  is  one  of  the 
noblest  activities  of  the  human  soul  to  reconstruct  this  beautiful 
vanished  woild  ;  to  bring  it  clearly  back  before  the  vision  of  man. 
This  is  creative  activity,  which  expands  the  mind  and  heart  and 
quickens  powerfully  the  sense  for  what  is  essentially  human. 
But  to  grub  here  and  there  in  the  ruins,  and  to  be  interested 
in  one's  discoveries  and  in  one's  labours  only  as  in  so  much 
curious  bric-a-brac  is  to  defeat  the  very  end  of  classical  study, 
and  to  miss  the  crown  that  awaits  the  wise  Avorker. 


Classical  PhUologij  in  the  College,  19 

The  successful  prosecution  of  classical  study  at  the  present  day, 
which  means  as  we  have  seen  much  more  than  the  old  fashioned 
verbal  scholarship,  demands  and  develojies  literary  information, 
taste,  and  tact,  an  alert  and  responsive  aesthetic  sense,  instruc- 
tive and  ennobling  historical  knowledge,  together  with  scientific 
exactness  and  discrimination.  AVe  study  literature  not  only  for 
the  information  it  aftbrds,  or  for  the  pleasure  it  yields,  or  for  the 
new  light  it  casts  upon  human  life,  but  also  for  its  effect  upon  our 
manner  of  thinking,  and  upon  our  expression  of  thought.  One  of 
the  highest  attainments  in  education  is  intellectual  vision,  the 
seeing  of  things  clearly  and  in  perspective.  It  is  this  very 
power  of  intellectual  vision  that  gives  the  great  names  in  litera- 
ture their  distinction  ;  their  title  to  immortality  is  that  they 
make  men  see  "  steadily  and  whole : "  it  is  chiefly  by  the  posses- 
sion of  this  power  that  literature  is  distinguished  from  all  else 
that  is  written.  They  that  love  the  best  literatures,  that  study 
them  with  sympathetic  appreciation,  become  insensibly  affected 
by  them  in  many  ways.  They  receive  something  of  the  seer's 
power  of  sight  into  their  own  souls.  They  behold  not  only 
through  the  glass  of  literature,  but  they  insensibly  learn  to  be- 
hold and  to  make  other  men  behold,  with  their  own  unaided  eyes. 
Constant  contact  with  the  vivid  and  apt  expression  of  thought 
shapes  the  student's  own  thinking  into  clearness  and  symmetry, 
and  lends  to  his  utterance  of  it  something  of  unwonted  vigor  and 
fitness.  And  by  the  study  of  literature,  it  is  needless  for  me  to 
say  I  mean  preeminently  the  loving  and  sympathetic  reading  and 
re-reading  of  the  great  books  themselves,  and  in  only  a  secondary 
way  the  acquisition  of  information  about  the  books  and  the  lan- 
guages in  which  the  books  are  written.  The  classical  philologist, 
both  as  student  and  teacher,  will  ever  magnify  this  part  of  his 
work,  the  study  of  the  literatures  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 
He  will  ever  feel  that,  in  order  truly  to  ap})reciate  these  litera- 
tures, he  must  at  least  endeavor  to  place  himself  in  the  position 
of  the  ancient  reader  for  whom  these  books  were  originally  written. 


20  The  College  in  the  [^niversifi/  and 

and  Avhatever  may  thus  place  him — whether  it  be  a  more  precise 
and  thorough  knowledge  of  language  or  a  clearer,  more  compre- 
hensive knowledge  of  the  situation  in  its  manifold  aspects  —  he 
Avill  strenuously  aim  to  acquire,  not  as  an  end  in  itself  but  as 
subsidiary  to  his  great  aim. 

Literary  study  wisely  carried  on  will  develop  the  student's  aes- 
thetic faculties — for  literature  is  above  all  a  work  of  art, —  but 
these  will  also  receive  es])ecial  culture  and  expansion  from  the 
systematic  study  of  the  remains  of  ancient  art,  especially  in  sculp- 
ture and  architecture.  These  immortal  creations,  which  have 
been  at  once  the  inspiration  and  the  despair  of  modern  artists, 
the  student  will  bring  before  his  mind  by  the  actual  observation 
of  them  in  the  original  or  in  copies  and  by  the  aid  of  an  imagi- 
nation trained  and  informed  by  archaeological  research.  The 
civilization  of  the  Greeks  in  particular  was  permeated  as  has 
been  that  of  no  people  since,  by. a  singularly  pure  and  sound 
artistic  instinct,  which  discloses  itself  at  every  turn.  This  fact 
gives  a  unique  value  to  the  study  of  Greek  art,  quite  indepen- 
dently of  its  i^lace  among  Greek  studies :  it  makes  Greek  art  the 
best  discii^line  for  the  theory  and  history  and  of  art  in  general. 

The  appliances  for  this  branch  of  inquiries  have  been  vastly 
improved  within  the  last  decade.  And  here  in  our  own  city  a 
most  admirable  beginning  has  been  made  especially  in  the  well- 
chosen  collection  of  casts  in  the  Peabody  Institute.  When  this 
collection  is  supplemented,  as  it  undoubtedly  Avill  be,  by  casts 
of  recently  discovered  masterpieces,  by  electrotypes  of  coins,  by 
photographs — there  will  be  few  cities  in  this  country  where  clas- 
sical archaeology  can  be  pursued  to  greater  advantage  than  at 
Baltimore. 

Classical  antiquity  and  classical  studies  yield  much  more  than 
the  benefits  arising  from  contact  with  literatures  luminous  with 
thought,  or  with  an  art  almost  ideal  in  spirit  and  in  its  creations. 
Tlu;  history  of  the  Greeks  and  Kt)mans  is  beyond  all  estimate 
replete  with  instruction,  alike  in  its  political  and  its  biographical 


Classical  Pliilologu  in  the  College.  21 

aspects.     The  fortune^:  and  the  fiites  of  cities,  the  rise  and  fall 
of  institutions,  the  careers  and  achievements  of  men,  recorded  for 
us  in  sombre  words  of  warning  or  in  the  charming  narrative  of 
the  great  historians,  or  in  the  biographer's  homely  and  epigram- 
matic phrase,  or  perhaps  traced  out  by  ourselves  or  by  others  in 
the  scant  fragments  of  scattered   writers,  have  a  transcendent 
and  perennial  interest.     The  absence  of  what  is  merely  local  or 
temporary  in  significance  strikes  us  with  surprise.     It  seems  as  if 
Ave  were  passing  in  review  the  experiences  of  a  common  humanity 
when  we  read  the  pages  of  classical  history.     The  contemplation 
of  the  mighty  drama  of  ancient  life  there  unfolded  affects  us  as  do 
all  the  great  tragedies  of  literature.     In  ]\Iilton's  words — 
"His  servants  he  witli  new  acquist 
Of  true  experience  from  this  great  event 
With  peace  and  consolation  hath  dismissed. 
And  calm  of  mind,  all  passion  spent." 

The  debt  that  we  owe  to  this  ancient  civilization  we  can  hardly 
reckon  too  high.  And  yet  we  are  powerless  to  appreciate  it, 
powerless  to  appropriate  its  good  and  reject  its  evil,  without  that 
analysis  and  calm  estimate  which  classical  studies  alone  can 
afford.  We  have  inherited  the  past,  we  are  the  past ;  our  intel- 
lectual affinities,  partly  through  the  tradition  of  civilization, 
l)artly  through  the  system  of  education  by  which  for  centuries 
we  have  been  brought  up,  are  much  closer  with  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  than  with  many  other  more  recent  peoples.  We  cannot 
know  ourselves  nor  our  work  unless  we  trace  out  these  affinities, 
and  intelligently  recognizing  their  force  submit  ourselves  to  their 
influence  and  inspiration.  Why  is  it  that  a  culture  so  remote  in 
the  past  should  touch  at  so  many  points,  with  that  touch  of  nature 
that  makes  us  kin,  the  culture  of  the  modern  world?  Why  is 
it  that  a  culture,  which  in  its  material  aspects,  in  its  outward 
features,  is  so  alien  to  ours,  should  still  exercise  upon  us  so  potent 
an  influence?  It  is  because  to  the  best  things,  to  the  great 
underlying  principles  of  thought  and  of  conduct,  there  can  be  no 
past ;  these  are  eternal,  these  are  common  to  humanity.     These 


22  The  College  in  the  University  and 

are  the  "truths  that  having  been  must  ever  be."  The  distinct 
knowledge  of  them,  the  definite  and  clear  utterance  of  many  of 
them,  were  first  achieved  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  with 
a  richness  and  range  that  makes  plagiarists  of  all  succeeding 
races.  In  placing  ourselves  in  contact  with  the  literature,  the 
institutions  and  the  art  in  whicli  they  are  shadowed  forth,  we  not 
only  bring  these  truths  anew  vividly  and  concretely  before  us, 
but  in  the  very  process,  as  we  note  them  in  unfamiliar  surround- 
ings unconnected  with  the  associations  which  always  attend  their 
modern  manifestations,  we  learn  to  distinguish  the  essential  from 
the  non-essential,  we  learn  to  recognize  and  to  honor  the  eternal 
types.  With  us  so  often  "  custom  serves  for  reason,"  as  Locke 
says,  that  anything  that  gives  us  new  and  fresh  views  should  be 
welcomed. 

The  fixbric  of  ancient  civilization  was  a  simple  one  as  compared 
with  our  modern  world.  Here  there  is  nothing  that  is  not  com- 
plex, nothing  that  is  not  confusing.  And  yet  this  intricate  maze 
of  modern  life  nuist  be  threaded  by  us,  and  the  problems  of 
modern  thought  must  be  solved  by  the  man  who  would  retain  his 
intellectual  freehold.  Experience  alone  can  furnish  the  clue ; 
experience  alone  can  suggest  methods  of  solution.  Antiquity  fur- 
nishes a  field,  where  much  of  such  experience  may  be  won,  where 
the  atmosphere  is  clear  and  calm,  unclouded  by  the  mists  of 
prejudice,  where  the  elements  of  the  problem,  simpler  and  fewer, 
are  distinctly  within  one's  scope.  Ancient  civilization  and  cul- 
ture was  not  only  more  simple  than  modern  :  it  had  a  unity,  an 
organic  wholeness,  wherein  it  is  (juite  unlike  our  modei'n  world. 
It  is  this  unity,  this  solidarity,  that  makes  all  the  phenomena  of 
antiquity  seem  to  spring  from  a  common  source,  to  wear  a  com- 
mon likeness.  Thus  one  class  of  phenomena  will  throw  light 
upon  phenomena  of  a  different  class,  and  one  group  of  classical 
studies  will  illustrate  other  groups  in  a  most  surprising  manner. 
Here  is  "  infinite  riches  in  a  little  room." 

I  desire  to  select,  at  random,  two  examples,  to  show  how  one  line 
of  research  receives  illumination  from  another. 


Classical  Pli'doloyy  in  the  College.  2li 

Plutarch  tells  us,  in  his  life  of  Pericles,  that  while  the  Propy- 
laea  of  Athens  -were  in  .  process  of  erection — the  magnificent 
system  of  buildings  on  the  western  brow  of  the  acropolis — a 
favorite  workman  fell  from  the  roof  and  received  serious  injuries, 
which  led  the  physicians  to  give  him  up.  In  the  sorrow  of 
Pericles  at  the  event,  the  goddess  Athena  a})peared  to  him  in  a 
vision,  and  suggested  a  remedy,  which  proved  effective  in  restor- 
ing the  sufferer.  In  commemoration  of  this  fact,  Pericles,  adds 
Plutarch,  erected  a  bronze  statue  of  Athena  Hygieia  ("  Athena 
the  Healer ")  upon  the  acropolis.  The  name  of  the  probable 
sculptor  of  this  statue  is  furnished  by  Pliny,  as  Pyrrhus.  Until 
a  few  years  ago  nothing  was  known  of  the  statue  except  what 
I  have  just  said.  But  in  1889,  on  the  removal  of  a  large 
amount  of  rubbish  accumulated  about  the  eastern  portico  of  the 
Propylaea,  a  remarkable  pedestal  was  found,  set  close  against  the 
southeastern  corner  of  the  column.  Upon  the  cylindrical  vertical 
surface  of  this  pedestal,  still  in  position,  the  traveller  may  to-day 
read  these  words 

Uupf)o<;   i~oi7j(Te'/   'AOrj'^aiti^ 

"  The  Athenians  to  Athena  tlie  Healer. 
The  work  of  Pyrrhus  of  Athens." 

Upon  the  upper  horizontal  surface  of  the  pedestal  are  impressions 
in  the  marble,  into  which  evidently  the  bronze  feet  of  the  statue 
were  fixed,  and  where  perhaps  the  end  of  her  spear  rested.  These 
indications  make  it  plain  that  the  statue  was  larger  tlum  life : 
that  it  faced  eastward,  and  that  the  body  Avas  thrown  a  little 
forward,  the  weight  resting  on  the  right  foot. 

My  other  illustration  will  be  selected  from  the  field  of  art  criti- 
cism. Since  its  discovery  sixty-six  years  ago  the  statue  known  as 
the  Venus  of  Milo  has  been  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  precious 
treasures  inherited  by  the  modern  wtn-ld  from  antiquity.  In  the 
statue  we  have  a  very  noble  woman,  more  than  human,  who 
stands  looking  a  little  to  the  left ;    her  head  is  slightly  raised 


24  lite  College  in  the  Lnlcersliy  and 

and  her  eyes  are  directed  without  doubt  to  an  object  held  in  her 
uplifted  left  hand,  jDrobably  an  ap23le.  Her  left  knee  is  raised 
slightly  ;  the  drapery,  which  has  fallen  about  her  hips,  she  seems  to 
hold  in  place  by  her  extended  right  hand.  Both  arms  and  hands, 
however,  are  lost.  The  head  Avhile  noble  is  severe  and  in  some 
features  of  its  technique,  in  its  fine  sharp  lines,  recalls  work  in 
bronze;  the  drapery,  however,  has  all  the  technique  of  marble. 
Of  whom  is  this  majestic  figure  ?  By  numerous  witnesses  in  litera- 
ture we  are  informed  that  the  apple  was  an  attribute  of  the  god- 
dess Aphrodite,  not  because  of  the  part  it  played  in  the  Choice 
of  Paris,  but  because  of  an  ancient  symbolism.  The  form  half 
naked,  the  eyes  partly  closed  and  other  indications  make  it  clear 
that  in  this  figure  we  have  a  representation  of  the  goddess 
Aphrodite.  With  its  wonderful  freshness,  nobility  and  beauty 
the  statue  offers  much  that  is  puzzling :  for  example,  the  whole 
pose  of  the  body  and  the  position  of  the  limbs  do  not  seem  to  have 
a  sufficient  motive,  when  everything  is  considered.  It  is  plain, 
therefore,  that  the  statue  —  which  was  undoubtedly  Avrought  in 
the  third  century  b.  c.  —  is  not  an  original  type,  but  rather  a 
variation  upon  an  earlier  type.  Is  it  possible  to  discover  the 
nature  of  this  earlier  type,  which  must  be  more  intelligible,  more 
harmoniously  I'easoned  out?  The  answer  and  the  solution  of 
the  puzzle  comes  to  us  not  altogether  from  sculpture,  but  from 
the  evidence  of  numismatics,  and  from  one  or  two  literary  notices. 
On  the  acropolis  of  Corinth,  we  are  informed  by  Pausanias,  there 
Avas  a  bronze  statue  of  the  armed  Aphrodite.  Coins  of  Corinth 
give  us  a  very  rude  representation  of  a  statue  of  a  goddess  in  a 
temple  on  a  height,  which  is  without  question  the  Aphrodite 
spoken  of  by  Pausanias.  The  goddess  holds  with  both  hands  a 
shield,  the  rim  of  which  is  near  her  knee.  She  is  looking  into 
the  shield,  as  into  a  mirror,  with  slightly  drooping  head.  This 
Corinthian  figure,  then,  represents  a  modification  of  the  ancient 
armed  Aphrodite,  with  her  own  weapons,  and  not  Avith  the  shield 
of  Ares  or  Mars.     A  bronze  statue  known  as  the  Brescia  Victoi'v 


Classical  Philology  in  the  College.  25 

gives  us  a  slight  variation  upon  the  original  type :  the  figure  is 
that  of  a  winged  Nike  or  Victory,  who  is  writing  upon  the  shield. 
The  sculptor  of  the  A^enus  of  Milo  furnishes  us  with  yet  another 
modification :  he  removes  the  shield  altogether,  raises  the  left 
hand  and  i)laces  in  it  an  apple,  lifts  the  face  slightly,  that  the 
e)^es  may  be  turned  toward  the  apple ;  the  right  hand  is  made 
to  grasp  the  drapery,  which  would  not  however  slip  down.  The 
peculiar  pose  of  the  limbs  as  in  the  original  type  they  support  the 
shield  is,  however,  retained ;  and  in  the  treatment  of  the  face 
something  of  the  technique  of  bronze  statues  is  retained.  This 
famous  statue  then  receives  its  clear  explanation,  and  only  because 
various  classes  of  evidence  have  been  combined  in  the  study  of 
it.  Numerous  theories  have  been  proposed  by  art  critics  in 
explanation  but  they  have  been  inadequate,  partly  through  a  lack 
of  acquaintance  with  archaeological  research  in  out-of-the-way 
fields,  and  partly  through  an  improper  use  of  literary  evidence. 
The  Venus  of  Milo  gains  a  new  meaning  when  we  look  upon  it 
as  the  echo,  as  it  were,  of  a  famous  Avork  of  art  which  for  many 
centuries  was  the  pride  and  wonder  of  a  city  noted  in  antiquity 
for  its  worship  of  the  goddess  of  love. 

I  have  presented  these  two  illustrations  with  considerable  detail 
of  statement  only  that  it  might  be  apparent  with  what  definiteness 
and  amjDlitude,  even  in  instances  themselves  of  no  great  conse- 
quence, the  different  branches  of  philological  science  and  inquiry 
explain  and  aid  each  other. 

The  value  of  this  fact  to  the  student  of  classical  philology  in 
enabling  him  to  gain  thorough,  comprehensive,  related  knowledge, 
instead  of  superficial,  incoherent  information — and  thus  in  de- 
veloping the  habit  of  exhaustive  work — needs  no  further  examples 
nor  further  emphasis. 

In  the  college  here  established,  so  long  as  the  great  truth  is 
vividly  recognized   that  "the   permanent  future  must  find   its 
fountain  of  life  in  the  permanent  past,"  classical  studies  will  be 
4 


26  The  College  in  the  University  and 

encouraged,  cultivated  and  enlarged.  But  they  will  be  cultivated 
in  no  exclusive  spirit.  Their  most  ardent  champions  will  ever 
see  in  them  but  one  part  of  the  wide  and  profound  discipline, 
needful  for  the  equipment  for  advanced  research  and  study,  and 
for  the  far  more  important  equipment  for  modern  life. 

The  present  age  has  been  justly  called  a  "  time  of  loud  disputes 
and  weak  convictions."  Convictions  are  weak  because  knowledge 
that  is  but  partial  and  incomplete  is  taken  as  final  and  soon  found 
inadequate;  because  in  the  shocks  and  changes  of  advancing 
science  and  of  social  conditions  there  has  been  a  slackening  of  the 
moral  fibre.  The  remedy  and  the  rescue  can  come  only  from  a 
wider  and  deeper  knowledge,  from  a  more 

"  fearful  innocence 
And  pure  religion  breathing  household  laws." 

The  change  to  a  better  social  condition,  which  every  true  man 
must  have  at  heart,  can  be  brought  about  only  by  the  deepening, 
the  purification,  and  the  strengthening  of  all  good  influences.  In 
the  onward  progress  of  humanity  the  individual  seems  to  count 
for  little,  except  as  he  allies  himself  to  the  organized  forces,  the 
organized  institutions  of  society  and  of  religion.  Institutions 
remain,  but  men  pass  away.  The  institution  here  established 
will  be  here  perpetuated  and  will  outlive  us  all.  It  will  live,  and 
will  deserve  to  live,  only  as  it  remains  a  fountain  of  life  to  those 
who  come  within  its  influence.  It  will  live  only  as  it  quickens 
conscience,  purifies  and  strengthens  character,  develops  and 
deepens  intellectual  power  with  moral  and  religious  earnestness. 
It  will  live  only  as  it  recognizes  and  professes,  as  the  ultimate 
aim  of  all  education,  the  spread  of  the  kingdom  of  Reason  and 
Righteousness  in  the  individual,  in  the  state,  in  the  world.  In  a 
serene  and  unshaken  belief  in  what  is  permanent,  it  shall  not  make 
haste;  it  shall  not  strive  nor  cry,  but  in  the  strength  of  quietness 
and  confidence  it  will  calmly  proceed  on  its  way.  The  great 
throng  of  youth  that  from  generation  to  generation  shall  here 


Classical  Philology  in  the  College.  27 

gather — themselves  to  the  teacher  a  source  of  perennial  inspira- 
tion— it  will  discipline  and  equip  in  all  that  enriches  and  elevates 
life,  unceasingly  endeavoring — ^faithful  to  the  chosen  motto  on 
yonder  shield,  Veritas  vos  libekabit — as  its  highest  achieve- 
ment, to  bring  all  that  are  within  its  influence  into  the  dominion 
of  the  Truth  that  shall  make  men  free,  whether  it  be  the  truth  of 
Belief,  the  truth  of  Conduct,  or  the  truth  of  Knowledge. 


THE  LIBRARY 


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